


Ruled

by dmnutv_archer



Category: The Avengers (2012), Thor (2011)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-18
Updated: 2011-11-18
Packaged: 2017-10-26 06:21:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/279699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dmnutv_archer/pseuds/dmnutv_archer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written as a gift for the wonderful members of the livejournal community <a href="http://onhiddlesd.livejournal.com/">onhiddlesd</a>.</p><p>Inspired by <a href="http://onhiddlesd.livejournal.com/5005.html?thread=264077#t264077<br />">this community thread</a> in which <a href="">wikkibird</a> comments:</p><p><i>I want someone to write a fic of him fucking someone against a wall with those horns on and full battle dress and he says "You were made to be ruled..."</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Ruled

She despised him. Yet here she stood in his candlelit hotel suite, enthralled by this dangerous, erotic creature draped in black leather and metal and crowned with golden horns. Lithe, elegant, and deadly. She too was deadly. And confidence in that alone kept her from bolting through the door. But to stand here transfixed, like a doe caught in a truck’s headlights?

Never.

She turned her back to him, refusing to become a slave to his beauty. Or to her desire. If he wanted her, he would have to work for it.

 

#

 

He knew she hated him. But he also knew she wanted him, _needed_ him more than her ridiculous human pride would ever allow her to admit. So she made a pathetic attempt at hiding her desire. As if turning away would somehow conceal the lust racing through her body, borne upon the blood pulsing wildly in her veins.

That shame in her weakness made this wicked seduction all the more gratifying.

Smiling, he slid both hands around her waist, reaching beneath the silk shirt. As he trailed his fingertips up over skin softer than even his own, he pressed his mouth to her ear. Just the lightest touch, lips grazing, tongue tracing the outer edge. Facing the wall, she inhaled sharply, then arched her back. The curve of her ass, still wrapped in her skirt, fit perfectly against him. So different than the hard body of a man. And equally arousing.

He circled her ear with his tongue, then nipped the lobe, hard. “Spread your legs for me,” he whispered. She complied, flattening her hands against the wall and teetering on stiletto heels that presented her at the perfect height for him to take standing.

Yes. Here against the wall. Fast and hard for their first time. There would be opportunity in the future for long, sultry evenings of seduction in bed, or wherever else might intrigue him. Once she enjoyed a taste of him, she would always return for more. But first, to coax from her lovely mouth a plea, begging him to give her what she most wanted, yet refused to admit.

With both hands firmly clasped over her bra he steadied her. He dipped his hands inside the lacey annoyance, and lifted her breasts free. Each sat heavy in his hands, yet soft, aside from rapidly hardening nipples. He closed his fingertips around each, lightly, teasing. The faintest moan caught in her throat. But enough that he heard. He tightened his touch, pinching gently. His own arousal strained against his leather trousers, needing escape. But he denied himself. Tormenting this gorgeous woman gave him pleasure enough. For now. Until she begged for it.

Still rolling one nipple between his fingers, he reached around with the other hand and found her mouth. While she pushed her ass back, grinding against him, overtly aroused now, he dragged his finger over her full lips, then shoved it between them. “Suck.”

She obeyed, wrapping her lips around him, sucking, her blood red painted nails scratching the wall. She took his long finger deep, to the back of her throat, dragging her tongue along the length in a perfect parody of oral sex.

Such easy capitulation. These Midgardians proved no challenge at all. And he found it thrilling that they fell prey to his seductions. Even the strong willed ones such as this beautiful, but seemingly cold, woman.

Cold perhaps. But not now. Not while sucking him off, even if it was only his finger. And certainly not cold between her legs. He slid his hand under her skirt, reaching up, bypassing the slender knife strapped to her left thigh.

Well. No panties. What a delightful surprise. He cupped her wet heat while slipping one finger inside her. Around his finger still deep in her mouth she gasped, and twisted slightly, again throwing herself off balance. Using his entire body, he pushed her against the wall, holding her still.

“You want this, don’t you?” he murmured against her ear, yearning to hear her beg. He pulled his finger free from her mouth so she could answer.

But she stayed silent. So he gently brushed a fingertip between her legs over her most sensitive spot. Now she moaned. Or was that a growl? He rubbed harder, pressing, while sliding a finger in, then out of her. He conjured a tiny trace of magical energy and allowed it to spark from his fingers, enhancing the stimulation. Her hips rocked back and forth while she rode his hand, but still she remained quiet. Even through the layers of leather covering his body he felt her heart race.

Perfect. Just enough tease, and he pulled his hand away. She whimpered, a faint, muted sound she quickly silenced. This continued denial proved more than his own need could bear.

He slipped his length free, but stayed fully dressed. Then he shoved her skirt up to her waist, revealing the pale, soft skin of her curves and granting him access to what they both wanted most.

He took himself into his hand, closing his palm tight, and stroked the stiff length. Not that he could possibly become further aroused. He wanted nothing more than to take this woman hard, here against the wall, and destroy her stubborn insistence on remaining silent.

“Condom,” she whispered.

He nearly laughed aloud. What a ridiculous request. As if that would protect her should he choose to cause her harm. “I’m a god, remember? Tonight is about our pleasure only. You’ll catch nothing from me. Not even a child. You have my word.”

She glanced over her shoulder, looking up at him, her gaze hungry and mouth parted as if to speak. Instead, she nodded once, and turned her face back toward the wall.

Still grasping himself with one hand, he encircled her slender neck with the other. Not tight, not enough to frighten. But with a firm enough hold to both steady her and ensure she knew he was in control. Then, biting his lip, anticipating the coming pleasure, he rubbed his cock against her ass, then guided it down between her legs. “Is this what you want?”

The tremors rippling through her answered, but he would make her speak.

Slowly, gradually, he breached her wet heat, pushing in, tormenting her. Then he stopped, the head of his cock barely inside her. “You want more?”

In a swirl of red hair she threw her head back, slamming it on his shoulder. “Bastard.”

He slid his hand from her neck down over her breasts, rubbing fingertips over one nipple, then the other. She trembled against him, but he held back, refusing to enter her more than this taunting touch. “What do you need?”

“You...” she paused, gasping, shaking. “Please...”

“Please what?” he demanded.

“Please fuck me... Please... Fuck me.”

Ah. What he had waited for. Begging. And in such crude language.

Closing his eyes, he touched his lips to her ear. “You were made...” He thrust forward, burying the entire length of his cock inside her tight body. “...to be ruled.”

“Yes. Yes,” she gasped. He gripped her waist and thrust hard, nearly lifting her off the floor, and giving her exactly what she begged for. The vision of her hands splayed on the wall, fingers clawing while she held herself up, and the sound of her unrestrained moans weakened his own control.

Keeping one hand on her waist, guiding him, he reached around with the other. In time with his deep thrusts, he rubbed his fingers against her, faster until she moaned with each slap of his body against her ass. She pushed back, tensing, reaching for her climax.

“Please...” she begged, “please ... don’t stop...”

He complied, this time bringing her to the edge, then hurling her over. Against him she shuddered, her rhythmic moans rising to a scream. As she came, she cried out, “Loki!”

The begging, the total loss of control, her screaming his name, all stole away his own control. Quickly, too quickly, heat tightened in his core. He slammed her against the wall and forced his length deep in her glorious heat one last time, then froze, spilling inside her, orgasm blinding him with pleasure.

Together, they slid to the floor, panting, breathless. She turned in his arms and pressed their mouths together. They shared a kiss, their first, lips parting and tongues meeting, oddly gentle after the raw, lust driven encounter. He held her against him, allowing himself to enjoy this unexpected moment.

But any extended post coital bliss was not for either of them. She tore herself free and rolled to her feet, suddenly steady on her heels.

He too rose, slipping himself back inside his pants and smoothing his leather and metal armor. The helmet remained in place, unmoved during their indulgence.

He watched while she tugged her skirt back down over those delicious curves and straightened her shirt. Her lipstick smeared mouth, so wanton only moments before, had tightened to a narrow line. Silent, she glared back at him, eyes still edged with desire, yet now burning with rage.

Such fury after perfect submission. Nothing pleased him more.

“You are most welcome Natasha,” he purred, then laughed as she grabbed her purse from the table, flung open the door and strode out.

He breathed deep, inhaling the lingering, exotic scent of her perfume. A fragrance worn to seduce. After all, he had interrupted her dining by candlelight with Clint Barton. A slight touch of magic entwined around a few words of persuasion sent the Archer home alone. In reality, he had wanted them both. On this night, he chose her.

Though she had only just left, he felt the burn of arousal smolder inside him. She had proven a worthy lover, and one he already wanted to enjoy again. Physically, she was feminine perfection. Yet there was more. She was not like the others. She was strong and independent and fiery. And lethal. Yet she submitted to him, willingly, without coercion. She actually trusted him. And he knew this was a woman who trusted no one. Something more than a raw indulgence of physical need happened here this evening.

The Black Widow would return to him. But first, an evening with Hawkeye. Then, perhaps he would enjoy both Avengers in his bed. If he felt like sharing her. Recalling the feel of her body wrapped in his arms, relaxing against him, and the soft touch of her mouth yielding to their shared kiss, he felt a sudden stab of possessiveness. Maybe he would keep her for himself.

An enemy turned lover, though still an enemy. He rolled that irony around in his mind, exploring all the possible ways he might exploit this newfound connection. Yes, Midgard was certainly proving a delightful world, and a fine place to make his new home.

 

#

 

As the elevator slowly descended from the hotel’s penthouse floor, she sagged against the wall, exhausted. Yet her entire body still hummed from the most intense sex she had ever experienced. Perhaps it was the use of magic that made it so. Or simply allowing herself to submit, even for the briefest moment, to being fucked by a god. She shivered, remembering those long, elegant fingers reaching between her legs, and that smooth, sensual voice demanding her submission. In the end, it was their shared kiss that nearly undid her. Sex was sex, even if she had ceded control to him, which she never did for any man, ever. But after, to allow herself a moment of exposed vulnerability? That was what infuriated her, and forced her from the oddly safe comfort of his arms.

Since she and her lover had first seen this treacherous enemy both had found themselves inexplicably attracted to him. Disturbing. Yet true. And now she had succumbed to that attraction.

She allowed herself to smile. Clint was going to be furious for losing their little wager over who would be the first to sleep with Loki. After she collected the one American dollar owed her, they could begin plotting how to lure the god into their bed. She closed her eyes and licked her lips. Imagining. Anticipating. Together they would share him. Together they would make _him_ beg.

But deep inside her, beyond that dark desire, the barest hint of hope that she might again feel his arms around her and his lips upon hers in a dance more lethal than any battle.


End file.
